blanket, folding it
half back.

"Lie down," he commanded, "an' you'll be asleep so quick you won't
know when it happens."

Tharon slipped off her daddy's belt and stretched her slim young form
in the hollow, which fitted it like a cradle. Not for nothing had
Billy slept out many a night with nothing save the earth and stars for
bed and blanket. The hollow was craftily deepened at hip and shoulder,
making a restful couch. As she settled herself therein he lapped the
loose half of the blanket over her and tucked it in. Then he took his
hat, folded it sharply and placed it under the tawny head.

In its place he would fain have laid his heart.

His fingers, settling the improvised pillow, tangled themselves
wistfully in the sun-bright hair, and the boy groaned aloud.

"What's the matter, Billy, dear?" asked Tharon anxiously, but Billy
laughed lightly, a thin sound in the mighty caverns.

"Nothing in God's world, Tharon," he lied. "Now go to sleep."

And he walked away to the tall mouth and sat down with his back
against one of the walls. From his pocket he took papers and tobacco
and proceeded to roll himself a cigarette.... Dawn showed the narrow
doorway strewn with their butts, as leaves strew mountain trails in
autumn.

* * * * *

Things were ready to happen in Lost Valley--several things.

At the Golden Cloud, Lola looked across the level stretches toward the
Stronghold with tragic dark eyes, and smiled at a dozen men whom she
scarcely saw. Settlers from all up and down the Wall drifted into
Corvan and out again, intent, silent, watchful. _Vaqueros_ and riders
from the Stronghold also came and went, as intent, as silent. They
passed each other with hostile eyes and trigger fingers were unusually
limber. The air was pregnant with change.

Buck Courtrey was conspicuous by his absence.

He was not seen in the town, neither was he at the Stronghold.

There were soft whispers afloat that he was with the Pomos up under
the Rockface at the north.

And at the Stronghold, poor Ellen, whiter than ever, more like a
broken lily drooping on its stem, trembled and waited for a day that
was set soon--too terribly soon!--the day, farcically appointed, for
the suit for divorce against her.

Word of this was abroad through all the Valley. Underground
speculation was rife as to which of the two women whom Courtrey
favoured, Lola or Tharon, was responsible. Some said one, some t